What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(101)

Aye. Crafty cretins, one and all. They weren’t smarter than her, but she’d realized quickly that aggression would only put her in deeper. They were used to Southland females like Keita’s mother, Queen Rhiannon. No matter the situation, Rhiannon only reacted with aggression and violence. Morfyd had always been weaker, but she wasn’t above using her Magicks to fight off her enemies. Unfortunately for Keita, her Magick skills were basic. She was a dragon, so automatically a Magickal being by nature, but she had no spells that could move mountains or turn a dragon’s blood to metal spikes. When she shot flame, it came out straight and true. Her mother’s flame could snake around corners and into crevices. She used it like a whip.

Her brother Briec also had skills far superior to many dragons, Fearghus a little less. But Keita, Gwenvael, and Éibhear only had the dragon basics, which meant she had to find other ways out of this hell.

What helped her, though, was the fact that there seemed to be nothing but males around her. Big, lonely males who were ready to settle down with a mate and have hatchlings of their own. Because females were so scarce, they’d have to fight for her in a tournament called The Honour. Brother against brother, kin against kin—all to be the one to Claim Keita. To put their brand on her, as if she were some farmer’s cattle.

That may have been her mother’s way, but it wasn’t what Keita wanted. It never would be. She liked her life just as it was. With human males hard and ready at the asking, beautiful gowns, and the freedom to go anywhere she pleased at any time. She answered to no one, and that included her mother or some male who thought he might own her.

For two weeks, she’d been amusing herself with the idiot kin of Olgeir the Wastrel, blocking her whereabouts from her parents and siblings. She knew her brothers well enough to know they’d come for her. They’d die for her, and she’d die for them. But after one night among the Olgeirsson Horde, she knew the risk they would most surely take would be unnecessary.

Even more importantly, it would also be unnecessary to let her mother know Keita had gotten herself into this mess. And, oh, how Rhiannon would love to know about all this. There were few things in this world Keita dreaded, but her mother’s mocking laughter was definitely top of her list. From her hatching, the great Dragon Queen had made it perfectly clear Keita was not remotely what she’d wanted for an offspring. No great Magick like her older sister and no battle-honed skills like her brothers. “She’s good enough for a fist fight, I suppose,” Rhiannon would often say, “but I’d never put a battle lance in her claws.”

In the end, letting her mother know she’d been captured by the Horde was unacceptable, but more importantly it was unnecessary. Although it would take time, she knew she’d get out of here without even having to crack a talon.

And, steadily, every day, she’d been nearing that goal. Until last night. Until she felt pain like she’d never felt before. Not physical as she’d briefly felt from Gwenvael almost a week ago. Something else. Something from her Fearghus that tore into her like a spear.

She’d felt his loss. Felt it as if it were her own. She knew then she had to get home. She’d played with these fools long enough and she’d run out of time. As had Annwyl, apparently.

“Lady Keita?”

She gave herself one more moment to stare off into the distance before she turned to face the Lightning behind her. He threw down a half-eaten carcass at her feet.

“For you,” he said gruffly.

It took everything not to let out a sigh and roll her eyes, but she plastered on her sweetest smile, making sure her fangs twinkled in the torch light. “That is so kind of you,” she said sweetly. “I was just thinking I was a little hungry.”

He stepped closer. “The Honour is to take place in three days, my lady. I will make you mine then.”

She lowered her eyes and sauntered toward him.

“Your words,” she said against his ear as she passed him, her tail easing up his chest, “arouse me, my lord.”

She heard his panting, knew he wanted her. It did not surprise her when he suddenly turned and grabbed her, pulling her until their scales touched. He was much bigger than her; she had to bend her head back to get a good look at him.

“I will make you mine,” he growled.

“Lady Keita, I—”

The younger Lightning stopped as Keita jerked out of the other’s arms. She made sure to look alarmed, confused—weak.

The younger Lightning slammed down his gift on top of the older one’s. Keita blinked. Good Gods. Is that a tree? Who gifts a tree?

She absolutely dreamed of the day she could tell Gwenvael this story.

“You cheatin’ bastard.”

“Back off, little snake. Wouldn’t want you to lose your head over somethin’ you’ll never get.”

The younger one—who had yet to learn to control his passions, whether love or hate—went for his brother.

Keita moved back as much as she could with the chain still holding her in place. But as she knew it would, the sound of their scuffle lured the others.

“What’s going on?” one of the older ones demanded.

“He was going to f**k her! I caught him!”

She almost laughed outright. Cocky bunch of dumbasses, weren’t they?

But with more of Olgeir’s brood joining in, the fight was getting ugly and the guards were called. She moved toward the door as two dragon guards ran in.